Page 72 of When The Rain Falls

Scream (my name)

Aimee

What We Do In the Shadows.

Aimee

That one’s pretty self-explanatory.

Aimee

Hello?

I’m doingthe sex math. But nothing adds up.

We kissed. We kissed again. He slapped my ass. He put his mouth on my freaking nipples. And then it ended. It wasn’t supposed to end. It was supposed to go to the next step. That’s how sex works. That’s how it’s always worked in the past. It’s always been simple. One plus one plus one plus one plus one equals sex. Not,“This is as far as it goes, Aimee.”But with Finn, nothing follows the normal pattern. He’s perpetually confusing me.

My whole life I’ve been valued by men according to how good I make them feel. And I thought I was making him feel good. It sure felt that way. The way the full, hard length of him rose beneath me. The urgency in his touch. Then he just stopped.

These are all the things I’m puzzling over as I walk across the street to his house. But when Ruby answers the door, I have new things to puzzle over. Because I instantly know something’s wrong. The house is cold. The lights are off. It feels haunted. Nothing is creepier than dark, still rooms filled with empty furniture. This is practically the set of the horror movie we watched last night.

Ruby looks at me, her hair in a rough ponytail. From the slippers on her feet and the baggy t-shirt draping her frame, she’s either on her way to bed or I interrupted her sleep.

"Hey," she says flatly. She doesn’t look surprised to see me. She doesn't smile. She just walks away from the open door and begins to trudge upstairs. Leaving me alone to fend off the feeling of unease that seems to have settled over the house.

I’m about to call up to her. To explain that I left my earbuds and came to look for them, when she says, “If you’re looking for Dad, he’s missing.”

Missing?

I pause mid-step as I close the door behind me. How does a grown adult just go missing from suburbia? Is this why he hasn’t answered any of my text messages today?

"What do you mean,missing?" I ask. I feel my eyebrows squeeze together.

"We don't know where he went," she says from midway up the stairs. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Her hand wraps around the railing and that’s when I notice that there’s a sheen in her eyes. “Don’t really care if he’s here in the morning.”

I remember seeing his van out front. It’s impossible to miss. A giant, shiny sore spot parked in the middle of the driveway. I walk down the hall. The kitchen is unusually messy. Dinner dishes stacked in and around the sink. There's an opened box of cereal on the counter. And an empty container of cookies. I have a pretty good idea about what was for dinner.

"Finn?" I call out as I walk past the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the TV room. “Bear?” I fluctuate my voice in a sing-song. “Come out, come out,” I sing, before whispering, “you big, sexy, frustrating man.” I poke the blanket on the couch, but it doesn’t reveal a body. Ok. He really isn’t here.

As I walk back through the dining room, I catch the faintest din of music. I pause, strain my ears, and realize it’s coming fromoutside. I walk to the sliding door and peer onto the back deck. It’s even darker than in the house. But I catch the unmistakable form of a muscular, huddled shape at the far end of the deck.

Bingo.

I open the sliding door a crack. Without the glare from the window, he's a little easier to see. His broad, hunched back makes him look more boulder than man. A boulder in a dark blue shirt.

“You know, most people just watch TV,” I tease. The boulder doesn’t move. I open the door wider, step onto the deck, and let the cool air hit me square in the face. Up until last night, I was wild with anticipation. Wondering what it would feel like to be touched by him. And now I know. And I’m desperate for more.

As I approach, the music grows louder. It’s a soft, romantic tune but the mood of the dark evening makes it sound somber. I make my way towards the huddled mass on the edge of the steps, the cold planks of the deck echoing my footsteps.

"Wow. You know how to party, bear. Easy boy. Aren’t you a little old for ragers?” I laugh, but my amusement is not returned. When I ease down beside him, the damp from the recent rain instantly soaks my thin cotton shorts. Finn doesn’t register my presence. Almost like he’s spellbound.

“Hey, you listening?” I ask, prodding his arm with my elbow. I can’t help but notice how amazing he smells. Masculine pine mixed with the comfort of warm linens. His muscles ripple across his rounded back as they pull the fabric taught.

"Aimee, go.” His tone is gruff, but there’s a strangle in his voice.

“I don’t really take commands. I’m more of the giving type,” I tease.

“I don’t have the energy for this tonight,” he growls.

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